Reunion
by marcosleeping
Summary: Marco Bodt died during the battle to reclaim Trost; however, a unknown woman brings him to the mysterious doctor who was rumoured to have the capability of reviving his patients. Later, he reunites with Jean after what felt like years to Marco, but was only four days for Jean. How will Jean react to seeing his friend, who was perceived dead, alive again? Rated T for language.


**Fandom:** Shingeki no Kyojin**  
Paring(s): **Marco/Jean**  
Rating:** T (for cursing)**  
Word Count: **3688**  
Summary: **Marco Bodt died during the battle to reclaim Trost; however, a unknown woman brings him to the mysterious doctor who was rumoured to have the capability of reviving his patients. Later, he reunites with Jean after what felt like years to Marco, but was only four days for Jean. How will Jean react to seeing his friend, who was perceived dead, alive again?

* * *

**Reunion**

Marco wasn't sure what was happening; all his mind could focus on was the rapid pace of his heart and the dreaded memories that were lingering in his head. Yet, he couldn't quite _see_ the clouded memories. It was like his mind refrained from giving him access to see it; like it knew it was too much for him to bear. He didn't understand it, and it made him scared that he didn't. Everything was completely dark and his body felt numb. He didn't know how many times he futilely tried to flex his fingers, turn his head, or open his mouth to ask for someone to help him.

Still, he could hear everything. Every tool that clinked when it was put down. The vibrating noise that buzzed near his ears; to him, it sounded like a chainsaw, but he knew that there was distinct difference between the two noises. The grunts of frustration that left the man who kept prodding at his chest and face were also clear. When he swallowed, adjusted his clothing, sighed, or mumbled to himself, Marco knew. Marco could practically see him doing all these things in his mind.

None of these noises matched how loudly he could hear his beating heart. It was a quick speed, but after a few hours, it slowed to a smooth rhythm. A haunting rhythm that he absolutely hated. It was a sign that he was alive, but after this many hours of being unable to move, feel, or see, he questioned if he actually was alive. He couldn't trust his judgement. He knew deep down in his mind that he was killed. He wasn't sure who had killed him, but they had. All he knew for certain was that he felt an overwhelming sense of betrayal and grief when his murderer took his life. From that he could conclude that it was someone he trusted.

He struggled endlessly to see a face; to try and figure out what had happened in those last moments he was alive, but only one thought kept coming in his mind. _Where was Jean?_ Out of his own volition, he risked his life to save him, but he still he didn't know if he was successful. Was he alive? Where was he now? Would he ever see him again? Did Jean see him die?

Did Marco want Jean to see him die? This was a question Marco wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to thrust that sort of pain or burden onto him; nevertheless, he couldn't deny how lonely he felt during his final moments or how he longed for his friends to be his side. Jean was his closest friend, his beloved friend that he wanted to protect. While there were times it could be said that Jean didn't value their friendship, Marco knew he did. It could be his own imagination trying to see something that wasn't there, but he was sure Jean's eyes became a bit brighter or his smile grew a bit wider whenever he talked or saw him. Jean was honest, but there were times he refrained from showing his true weakness around others, and Marco was there to witness it. Jean felt comfortable around him; the same way Marco felt when with Jean.

Jean knew that when he was with Marco, he wouldn't be judged for his thoughts and actions; until he drew the line and Marco snapped at him. Although, he knew that Marco was doing it for his sake. He was doing it to better Jean in one way or another, and it did. Jean had to have known that, right?

"Alright. You can open your eyes now." The voice was rusty, as if the man hardly spoke to anyone. It was deep, emotionless, and had a slight tremor to it, like an elderly man's voice would. Following his instructions, Marco was finally able to open his eyes. They were out focus at first and the world seemed to spin around him, but soon it stilled and focused on the dark brown ceiling in front of him. "You were hard to work on. I've dealt with more difficult ones, but losing half a head is what's hard to fix."

Marco's head slowly turned to the man in a dark grey lab coat. One of his eyes were white, clearly plastic, and his face was covered in new wrinkles. He wasn't sure if they were either from his age or the immense amount of work he probably had to deal with. There were small scars here and there; the only one very distinguishable was the one that ran down from his temple to the middle of his right cheek. His skin was ghostly white and his black hair had a couple of wild, stray grey hairs. Marco stared at the man utterly confused with his words. He attempted to move his body that was slowly starting to become less numb. "Wh…what…" He wanted to speak, to ask as many questions as he could, but his jaw was sore. It hurt to move it.

"Ah, they always ask the same question. Well, it would be odd if they didn't." He started, leaning back on his wooden chair as his arms folded against his chest. "I am the doctor. My name is unnecessary. Someone brought you to me about two days ago. I would've gotten to you sooner if it wasn't for the many clients I had—or rather have—piled up in my storage room. The Battle of Trost was a heavy one…" He could tell the man loved to talk, yet his voice tricked him to think he didn't. He assumed that he hardly spoke to anyone other than his clients. Marco couldn't quite understand that. "You were dead. Lost an arm and most of the right side of your face."

Marco's eyes widened and his chest clenched in a way that felt like someone had reached into it and gripped it as hard as they possibly could. The realization that his thoughts and lingering memories were real frightened him. Yes, he had believed them to be true when his eyes were closed, but now that he was able to see, he thought it was nothing but a terrifying dream. "No! I'm ali-!" He shut his mouth once more, wincing from the pain that coursed through him when he opened his jaw too wide.

The man—or doctor—helped him sit up right. He barely managed to stay sitting forward, almost falling backwards just as quickly as he was pulled up, but the doctor kept a firm hand on his back. He reached over to grab a cup of water from the small table situated next to the bed Marco was laying on, and raised it to the boy's lips, making him drink what he assumed was water.

"There. Feel any better?" Marco gulped down the last droplets in the cup, hating the way his neck ached as well. Once the cup was moved away from his lips, he slowly shook his head. "I didn't think so. The places that were injured when you died are going to feel very sore." It awed Marco how the man could so easily say he died when he saw that he was there, right in front of him, _living_.

"You're wondering how you're alive, are you not?" He asked, not looking for an answer of approval from the teenager. "Well, some young woman brought what was left of you in. She looked distress…very guilty…and she asked for me to save you. All I needed was a piece of you; an arm or leg, and I could fix you up good as new. Any questions?" The doctor asked, reaching over to grab a syringe from the set of tools on the table.

Marco looked at the man with fear. Every word he said pounded in his head to the point it hurt. He didn't understand what was going on, and all he wanted to do was leave this place. He should be grateful but he was just frightened. Marco opened his mouth to talk but before anything left his mouth, the syringe pierced his skin and the man smiled at him kindly. "Good. Now rest."

* * *

Another swirl of thoughts, another set of nightmares filled his head. He could hear screams coming from every direction of him. Footsteps shook the ground he stood on and each one was closer than the next. He knew one of the titans was chasing him, yet he was confident he'd be able to slay them. He wasn't the fastest runner, but he was talented with his gear. If he just came up with the right plan. he'd be able to have this titan's face planted on the floor.

Using his 3DMG, he hoisted himself from the ground and to the air, landing swiftly on a building's rooftop. Once he was about to shoot his line once more, he stopped himself as he saw another soldier start battling the titan. She was moving too fast to see her face. Before he knew it, this woman was starting to get eaten by the titan. He watched as her limbs and side of her head were squished, but before he could jump in, she took initiative again and killed the titan. Now, staring down at her kill, the area where the woman lost her limbs started to give off smoke. It took him a few seconds to figure out if he was just seeing things, but once deeming that _she_ was actually the one regenerating, Marco froze. The blood in his body ran cold and the hairs on the nape of his neck stood up. Again, just as the woman was about to turn around and reveal her identity, he awoke.

His breath was heavy and fast. Cold sweat slipped from his forehead and down his cheek, lingering at his jaw line before it fell and sunk into the dirt beneath him. Pushing his chest off the ground, he quickly noticed that he was able to move his limbs without too much trouble, besides the fact that they still ached. He could hear the buzzing of conversation and the laughter of children. Until the buzz of the town quieted after hearing a loud scream coming from some building a few blocks from him. It didn't stay quiet for long since it soon started up again after some soldiers ran to find out what was wrong with the screamer.

Marco took his attention off of the nearby noises to pick himself up and check his surroundings. He recognized he was dumped in an alley, no surprise. That doctor wouldn't have just left him in the middle of market center, would he? The young teen felt unsteady on his legs, but using the building as his support, he helped himself balance on them, and eventually was able to move them once more; although, he stumbled a lot as if he was relearning how to walk again. Well, his goal was to reach where the crowd of voices were, which wasn't very far. At least then he'd be able to get some help. Possibly get a stick to rely on so he wouldn't have to use a wall as help.

Continuing to stumble through the alley, Marco stopped when he heard the painfully familiar voice behind him calling his name in disbelief.

"Marco…is that…you're not…" Marco turned around to face the voice. Relief washed over him as he saw it was Jean. His best friend who he previously wasn't sure was alive or not. The friend he had wished to see for what seemed like years was here, walking—running—up to him. His face hadn't changed, but it was silly to think it would; then again…he didn't know when the last time they saw each other was. Although, that didn't matter now. He was here breathing, walking without any visible injuries, and…frowning.

Once in front of him, Jean scanned his face for any sign of deformity or falseness in his features. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger like he anticipated that he had mistaken; that there was no chance that this was Marco. Every freckle, every hair he inspected with his distrusting, sharp eyes. A moment of silence wrapped around the two as they watched each other's features. Finally, Marco snapped out of the trance he was put in via his thoughts, and decided to speak. "Yeah…I'm alive." He smiled, cheeks dusted with pink from embarrassment. "I managed to get myself hurt pretty bad, huh? Sorry you-"

"Don't you fucking dare." Jean cut him off, deeply glaring at him. His eyes shined with glossiness from the, what Marco guessed, unwanted tears. He didn't get to see it for long since slender arms wrapped around him, pulling him close to Jean. The brunette's forehead rested on Marco's shoulder while his hand clenched the back of his shirt. "Don't you dare apologize for fucking _dying_."

The words sharply stabbed Marco's chest. The reminder that he had died was painful for him to hear, but the way Jean said it hurt more. His voice had a tremble he knew the other man was trying repress. He didn't hesitate to say that he died, but it was like he had to choke the word out for it to be heard. It pained him to know that his death was this painful for Jean to handle. He had brought on his grief for acting so careless. For his tactics and his plans failing. He didn't know what to say if it wasn't an apology.

His throat felt clogged and the tight embrace practically shouted how scared Jean was that he would disappear from his hands if he were to let go. The feeling of guilt engulfed him and he wasn't sure if the clear saline fluid filling his eyes was from consolation that Jean was close to him once more or if it was because of his culpability.

Marco's arms wrapped around Jean. His hands rubbed his back in small circles to try and ease him, smiling fondly at the strong embrace. Yes, he was upset that he felt so hurt, but he was also relieved that Jean didn't have to mourn for his death any longer. He was here with him, and he'd do his best to not leave once more. "You're alive." He stated simply, to stop himself from apologizing for his prior apology. He really did have trouble with that.

Jean stayed silent for a moment, wanting to ironically laugh at that statement. Instead, he just buried his nose deeper into his shoulders, uncaring that the tears, that built up from a overwhelming wash of emotions, stained his white shirt. "Because of you and that idiot Connie." He said, with soft quivering breaths.

Marco hummed softly in silent understanding, keeping the smile on his lips and relishing in the warmth he felt with Jean that was a large contrast to how he felt when with the doctor or…most times really. Another silence fell between them and, although it was comfortable for the most part, it started to feel awkward holding each other like that. It was intimate, far more than they had ever been. With hesitation, Jean pulled back scrubbing the remaining tears with the sleeve of his tan jacket, attempting to hide the evident blush on his face. "How're you alive?"

The warmth he wanted to keep so desperately was gone, and he knew he couldn't do much to keep it. It would've been questionable if he tightened his hold once Jean loosened his. His face matched Jean with the light blush on it that only reddened further with the question. He wasn't sure if he should tell him the truth, but there wasn't much to lie about anyway. "I don't know." He answered truthfully, sadly smiling. "I wish I could tell you, but I really don't have a clue…I just woke up here."

Once again, Jean was silent, staring at Marco. It was easy to tell that he was debating on whether to trust if his words rang true or not. He shouldn't feel hurt that he would question his faith in him since it was hard to trust anyone after they found out Eren was a titan. His miraculous revival was suspicious, even to himself. "I thought we burned-" Jean looked down, unable to continue his sentence.

"You what?" Marco interjected, eyebrows furrowing in a slight glare, upset with what he thought Jean was going to say. "You burned me? What about giving me to my family? Did I suddenly become so unimportant that you couldn't let them bury me!" He didn't mean to start an argument. He didn't want to; however, he felt so disgusted that once he died, they would just burn his corpse. There was no burial for him to be remembered by.

"Do you think I wanted them to burn you? What choice did I have?" Jean barked back, his voice rising steadily with each word. There was a slight hesitation in it, but he was not going to let him just assume that he didn't fight to give him a formal burial.

"Telling them to not burn me! Jean you could've convinced them somehow!" He enthused, his voice becoming raspy from the lack of water that was in his system.

"Well I tried my damn best!" He yelled, angrily clenching his fists in an attempt to calm himself down by scraping his nail against his palm. Marco fell silent at the statement, finding it best to not push Jean further before he could explain himself. "They wouldn't even let me say goodbye to you before they threw you into the stupid carriage." Jean spoke in a lower tone, looking down at the ground. "They burned you the second they piled up all the other soldiers. They didn't want a disease to spread."

He didn't want to look at Marco as he said these words, but he needed him to get the point he was trying to make. "They piled all of you up as if you were _nothing_. I didn't fucking want that for you. I didn't want to think this is how they'll treat everyone once they're dead." His voice held a mixture of sorrow and vexation, yet it was still soft. "But they do, and I can't do anything to change that." He paused. The honesty was evident in his expression and words. "That doesn't mean I didn't try."

Marco's lips were kept in a thin line. For a moment, he didn't say anything as he mulled over the information Jean gave him. It all did make sense. Jean may have desired for him to have funeral, but that wasn't going to happen. They were soldiers, and it was their duty to give up their lives for the sake of humanity. There were too many casualties for them to hold funerals and the knowledge they had for the Titans was much too scarce for them to risk not burning the dead bodies that came in contact with one. It was quick, but his body soon stepped forward to wrap Jean into another embrace. This one was different; softer, warmer. It wasn't filled with a mixture of emotions, just a set few. Ones that were strong and compelled him to have Jean this close.

Jean didn't protest; he was a bit shocked he was pulled into another embrace, but he didn't object it. A small jolt of electricity passed through his nerves, making him feel a tinge of embarrassment and fluttery feeling in his abdomen. The anger he felt towards the reminder of Marco's burned corpse, or what he thought was burned, washed away as he let himself ease into the hug. "Thank you." Marco tenderly whispered, the soft breath falling on the tip of his ears.

"You have to stop acting like this." Jean smiled, he didn't think he should be thanked, but he wasn't going to argue with Marco once more. Marco didn't want to fight either, and instead just smiled wider at the comment. "I'm just glad you're back."

Marco pulled away a bit so he could look at Jean, and Jean could see his confident, playful smirk. "Of course. I couldn't let you handle things on your own. You'd surely get your ass kicked without me." He wasn't one to curse often, but when he was joking around he let it slip every now and again.

Jean returned his smirk with one of his own, pulling away from him and give him a light punch in his arm; the one that he knew wasn't replaced. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Hey, remember who got the higher rank in our squad, Marco. I crushed you in every thing we did."

Marco protested, chuckling at his statement. "You beat me by a_ few_ points; you were one rank higher than me! I wouldn't count that as crushing me!"

Jean snorted at that and rolled his eyes, declaring he still beat him and added a nudge to Marco's side with his elbow to show he was still kidding around. Soon, the laughter faded and Jean smiled at Marco. That's what he liked most about him. That for a moment when they were together, he didn't have to think about the deaths he saw or the current dire situation with Eren's trial. He could just genuinely smile or laugh, even if it was for just a moment. "Just stay close from now on, okay?"

The smile on the black haired boy's face was radiant. It was nice to be worried over, especially by Jean. He could see that Jean was starting to accept that he was back and wasn't just some titan disguised as a human or some odd doppelgänger. "Sure."

* * *

**AN:** I am sorry that all they did was hug! I wanted to keep it as in character as I could and this was the first fic I have written in four years so it was more of a practice. I got this idea yesterday and I dying to put it on paper. I had planned them to kiss at some point but once I started writing it, it just felt way too rush for the development I gave them. I absolutely love this pair so this most likely won't be my last fic for them, though! Of course, the other ones won't be all dorky puppy love like in this one. Well, most. Oh, and I wonder if you could figure out what woman it was. I tried to make it pretty obvious.


End file.
